


The Heir Apparent

by Mrs_Steve_Rogers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Mentions of Catelyn Stark, Mentions of Lysa and Robin Arryn, mostly canon compliant, not sexual, subtle older man/younger woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:13:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4247238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Steve_Rogers/pseuds/Mrs_Steve_Rogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa and Lord Baelish discuss the future of the Vale and the possibilities it offers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heir Apparent

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Lysa's death, and before season 5 of the show. Thanks for reading!

_If Mother was alive, Lord Baelish wouldn't look twice at me. ___

Sansa didn't know much about her mother's relationship with Petyr, when Catelyn was still a Tully and Petyr had yet to earn the nickname of Littlefinger. But she knew that Lord Baelish had mooned over her lady mother, going so far as to oppose her marriage to Brandon Stark by challenging him to combat. Lady Catelyn had been beautiful even as a woman past her childbearing years, when Sansa knew her best; she must have been exquisite as a young girl. Sansa inherited her mother's striking auburn hair and blue Tully eyes, and she'd been told on many occasions that she bore a strong resemblance to her mother. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to her when Lord Baelish started showing affection for her, with Catelyn no longer alive. She should be flattered, perhaps, that such a powerful man paid her attention and treated her decently. But Sansa felt a certain uneasiness about it nonetheless. Lord Baelish certainly was not an ugly man, but his sharp beard and the hair at his temples were shot through with silver, making the large age difference between the two even larger. Sansa was barely a woman grown, and Lord Baelish was old enough to be her father.

But Lord Baelish had been of immense help to Sansa; without him smuggling her out on a ship she would still be in King's Landing, likely in pieces, with her head on a pike resting gruesomely on the walls of the Red Keep. She had to play Lord Baelish's advances carefully. She didn't want to turn him against her; he was cunningly helpful if on your side, sneakily dangerous if not.

"My lord," Sansa turned to him just then, as they walked through the inner courtyard of the castle at the Eyrie. "You grew up with my aunt Lysa, did you not?"

Baelish, with his ever-present smirk, replied, "I did indeed, but we didn't get along half so well as your mother and I did."

"And was she always so...strange?"

"Mad, I think you mean, my lady. But no, she didn't used to be." He stopped to inspect a stubborn little rose bud that had managed to survive despite the growing chill of the Vale. "Lysa was perfectly ordinary in every manner. Ordinary and plain, and altogether uninteresting. I don't spend my time on uninteresting people, Sansa." Baelish turned back to Sansa, looking at her peculiarly.

Sansa didn't know what to say to that, so she looked away and began walking along the path again. After a moment, she said, "Now that Lysa is...dead, does that mean that her awful little son is Lord of the Vale? He is the heir." Robin, Sansa's cousin, was a frail, petulant young boy of no more than nine. Sansa could hardly stand the sight of him, sickly and demanding as he was.

Petyr laughed lightly at the disgust in Sansa's voice. "Don't let the boy hear that, or he'll order you through his beloved moon door. No, Robin will not be the Lord of the Eyrie, at least not in practice, unless the people of the Vale do not wish to see the next summer."

Sansa was relieved; it seemed that she would be staying in the Vale for awhile, as far as she knew, and she couldn't bear it if Robin ruled over her. "Who, then?"

Lord Baelish glanced over at her, looking more mischievous than usual. He replied mysteriously, "One never can know with these feuds for lordship."

Dissatisfied with his lack of an answer, Sansa frowned. "Well, you were married to Lysa before she died, though not long enough for the people to truly trust you. Could you be the lord, at least until Robin is older?" If Lysa and Petyr had been married longer, and had had a child or two, perhaps the Houses of the Vale would have allowed it.

"Only with a considerable amount of convincing, I'm afraid. I do not have the Arryn blood that they fawn over, you see." His smirk seemed to deepen. "Lucky thing I have a proclivity for persuasion instead."


End file.
